


Azaria

by TheFrogPrincess



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-08 02:56:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17973149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFrogPrincess/pseuds/TheFrogPrincess
Summary: Originally posted on Fanfiction.net in 1999, co-author Tressa Sunshine, original summary: "A humorous fan fiction, featuring more Xander than some people might be able to stomach."The less-coy summary: future, middle-aged Xander is being chased by demons through dimensional portals and ends up in the Season 3 timeline where Giles warns him not to reveal any time-parodoxy secrets (but he still hints a lot) and Buffy and the gang save him. So, yes, two Xanders.





	Azaria

**Author's Note:**

> Co-written by the lovely **Tressa Sunshine** who does not have an AO3 account but has given me permission to post this here and I will pass on any comments or kudos to her.
> 
> This story is set in Season 3 and was written before Oz's full name was revealed to be Daniel Osbourne so we made up a different last name for him (which is also a Muppet easter egg). The story also contains a lot of in-jokes that we thought were funny at the time and even I can barely remember what some of them were referencing. (It's also a little weird how overwhelmingly heterosexual all the implied pairings were, extra embarrassing when we know they weren't all straight in canon.) As tempting as it is to try and fix things like that, I'm re-posting this story as is (minus a few typos). This story is not perfect, but it was written with fannish joy and I think that comes through.

Unlit and deserted, the halls breathed with shadows. Hours earlier, the last bell had rung. Upon that knell of freedom, the students had quickly scattered to the meager corners of their contradictory town. Sunnydale High School just wasn't the sort of place where people lingered even in daylight. 

Footsteps echoed down the corridors. A sharp exclamation, followed by shushing noises, broke the silence. 

Soon, giggles were released as a voice wondered, "Why whisper?" 

"It's school!" Willow explained as she rounded the corner. "I know we've been here at night before, but still—the reverence, the awe—the hallowed halls of academia!" Leaning towards Oz, she added conspiratorially, "There's that illicit thrill of the forbidden." 

Oz just smiled and tightened his hold on her hand. He appreciated Willow's fascination with the outlaw spirit, but it still amused him at times. 

Buffy scrunched up her nose and replied, "I'd rather be home. In bed. Sleeping. Instead, it's patrol. What's the use of having two Slayers when one's always disappearing? Why do I have to be the responsible one?" 

"Because you're older. And wiser!" Willow said in support of her friend. 

"Yeah, but where's Faith when you need her?" Buffy wondered, still nursing wounds from a vampire hunt that had not been entirely successful and had netted her a lecture on defensive protocols from Giles. 

"Probably being aggressive to bad people. Or maybe doing something else. Something bad," Xander commented as a gleam appeared in his eyes. 

Cordelia punched Xander in the arm and ordered, "Stop that!" 

"Ow! I was just conversing. Is there something wrong with that?" 

Cordelia huffed as she sped up her stride. 

Buffy pushed open the exit doors and said, "You'd think they'd lock these. Will they ever learn?" 

"Selective memory and we're proud of it!" Xander enthused. 

The cold night air hit them as they exited. Reflexively, each teen burrowed deeper into their jackets. Buffy glanced at the sky while Oz sniffed the air. A gibbous moon appeared behind some clouds and the stars coldly twinkled from above. There was something in the air—something unnatural. 

Buffy scanned the area for vampires and other assorted demons, but found nothing. Shrugging, she glided down the stairs and grinned at her friends. "Well, g'night." 

"No Bronze?" Xander plaintively asked. 

"Nope. Remember, I'm the good one. Some quality time with the books and then it's beddie-bye," Buffy replied. 

"We'll give you a ride," Oz offered and Willow nodded enthusiastically. 

"Thanks," Buffy agreed. "I don't have the energy to walk. I've definitely met my exercise quota for the night. I tell you the Thigh-Master has nothing on dusting vampires. Bubble bath and then bed time," she mumbled to herself. 

"I thought you said you were going to hit the books," Willow chided. 

"Yeah, well, there's still the weekend." 

They all headed for the parking lot where Cordelia's sports car and Oz's van (purple this week) sat side by side with the school librarian's Citröen. 

They'd only taken a few dozen steps when the slight breeze abruptly died and complete silence blanketed the night. No crickets chirped, no leaves rustled. It was an eerie stillness devoid of the familiar hum of living organisms. 

There was a loud pop and the group involuntarily stepped back. Oz noticed a slight swirling pattern, as if a whirlpool was developing. Silently, he pointed out the anomaly and all eyes focused on the churning air. The darkness transformed slowly into violet, then indigo, then blue. As the colors traversed the light spectrum, the counterclockwise spin increased at a dizzying pace. 

"Acathla's dead, right?" Buffy uneasily asked. 

Willow threw a troubled look towards the Slayer and moved closer to Oz for reassurance. Xander edged Cordelia behind him. As one, they reacted: stakes, holy water, and crosses suddenly in their hands. 

The vortex opened its maw wide and regurgitated a man. His face was streaked with blood and dirt while long scratches decorated his arms. The man was flung several feet away, landing hard on his knees. His torn clothing fluttered in the wind from the vortex as he desperately clambered to his feet. His gaze lit upon the five teenagers gaping at him and relief swept over his face. The man crookedly launched himself towards the group. Seemingly dragging one leg and in obvious pain, his expression was strangely joyous as he cried, "Buffy!" 

Uneasy, Buffy tightened her grasp on the stake and prepared for a fight while the rest of the group held their crosses aloft. Cordelia flung a bottle of holy water at the approaching man. It bounced off his chest, splashing him freely, mostly about the groin area, before it hit the ground and shattered. The man ignored the religious icons and seemed only mildly perturbed by Cordelia's bad aim. Jerking his thumb over his shoulder, he feverishly announced, "Demons! Right behind!" and then hobbled behind the Slayer. 

A horde of demons dropped into view and the teenagers sucked in their breath. Sounds of disgust broke forth from Cordelia, but she held her stance. Deciding that the man was a lesser threat, Buffy returned her attention to the vortex. She would grill him later about how he knew her name. 

The demons were not your average Sunnydale variety. Their skin, what little there was, pulsated chaotically and malevolent eyes glared at the mortals. Mottled skin appeared to be peeling and large puss-filled boils erupted every once in a while. The stench of rotting flesh and sulfur permeated the air; causing eyes to water. 

"No up-close-and-personal for me!" Cordelia commented as she uncorked her second bottle of holy water. "You know, has anyone ever thought of investing in super-soakers?" 

The demons rushed at the humans with long arms outstretched. A swift punch to the head of the nearest demon caused it to falter and Buffy staked it without hesitation. Sensing a demon behind her, Buffy shot out her leg and landed a kick on its torso. The demon didn't stop, but continued its hectic pace towards the Slayer. It grabbed her from behind and Buffy swung her legs outward. Buffy's momentum caused her to vault over the demon and wrench its arms free from their sockets. 

"Eeeeeeeeeew! That was disgusting. What, are you made of Play-Do?" Buffy commented while she staked the demon from behind. "Two down. More to go!" 

"Look out!" the stranger called out as he excitedly waved his arms. "There's one! Get him, Buffy!" 

Buffy rolled her eyes and jabbed at her next opponent. Her stake was slick with gooey stuff. Buffy immediately blocked that line of thought. 

Setting herself up for a roundhouse kick, Buffy slashed through empty air and landed heavily onto the ground. Dazed, Buffy asked, "Where'd it go?" 

"Sorry, Buffy," Willow apologized. 

"Didn't know you were going to do that," Oz added as Willow staked the demon lying on the ground beneath them. 

"'S okay." 

Xander was valiantly (and vainly) attempting to protect Cordelia. A demon knocked him away in a single swipe and he didn't get back up. Cordelia balefully glared at the offending demon. 

"No one hits my boyfriend except me!" Cordelia yelled and hammered the demon over the back of the head several times with her stake. The demon turned and snarled at her. With a squeal, Cordelia slammed her cross onto the demon's face. Screams of agony and pain drowned out the sizzling of flesh. 

Buffy appeared behind the demon and staked it. "That's enough, Cordy! Keep an eye on Xander." 

Nodding, Cordelia stumbled back to Xander. She grabbed his feet and dragged him away from the fighting. God, he was going to owe her for this. What kind of boyfriend got himself knocked out when a horde of demons was on the attack? Hardly chivalrous. Her muscles protested at the abuse, but she soldiered on. Buffy was right; they ought to open up a health spa and charge fat ladies for a demonic workout. 

Oz and Willow stood back to back. Four demons had surrounded them. The stench was overpowering and they were being sprayed with goo. Sometimes, it sucked to be a werewolf, he thought. Heightened senses could be a real drag. 

Willow prepared herself to attack the nearest demon. They were getting cocky and that was a bad thing. As the saying goes in football, the best offense is a good defense… or was the best defense a good offense? Willow gave up on sports metaphors and just plunged the stake into the demon's eye. She'd run out of holy water a while ago. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Oz noticed Buffy come up behind a demon. A swipe at his head forced Oz to concentrate on his opponent. He leapt at the creature full force and tried to get it into a headlock. The worst thing about fighting demons of the slimy variety was that you could never get a really good hold on them. The monster slipped right out from under him and the next thing Oz knew he was flying through the air with something not even approaching the greatest of ease. 

Thudding onto his back, Oz could only watch through a fuzzy haze as Buffy somersaulted over him (now, that girl has a future in the circus, he thought) and staked his attacker. 

Standing over him, Buffy braced for another attack, paused, turned, and then frowned. "Where'd they go?" 

Standing up, Oz discovered that there were no demons. Well, at least no live demons. The ground was littered with demonic carcasses, but that still left a hell of a lot of the creatures unaccounted for. 

They warily scanned the area for an ambush. The portal had disappeared at some point during the fight and the stranger was cowering behind some bushes. Cordelia brandished a cross by Xander. She did not look happy. Her perfectly coifed hair was a mass of tangles and her makeup had streaked down her face. 

"Cordy, did you see what happened to the demons?" Buffy questioned. 

"Some went back through that whirling thing just before it vanished and the rest ran off." 

"Great," Buffy muttered, "I hope they run into Faith. I really don't like them." 

Willow shifted her feet and pointed at the stranger. "What are we going to do with him?" 

The stranger moved closer to the group after checking for demons. He wasn't limping nearly as badly now. He grinned engagingly at the teenagers and replied, "Man, it's great to be back!" 

"Okay, Mr. Mysterious, but you've got some splainin' to do." 

"Sure, sure. Just give me a great big hug." He moved closer to Buffy and attempted to engulf her in a hug. 

Buffy pushed him away. A stern look at the stranger stopped him from trying again. "Thanks, but no thanks. Now, explain!" 

"Sure, but first take me to Giles. The big guy will want to be on this." 

* * *

Most of the good citizens of Sunnydale were long since tucked safely in their beds, but across town at the Kwik-E-Mart, Skippy was only just settling himself in for the long hours until morning. A jumbo blue raspberry slushee in one hand and the latest adventures of Betty and Veronica in the other, the clerk was at peace with the world and his place in it. He was always telling Mr. Mushnik that he needed to stock some _real_ comic books like _Witchblade_ , but, in truth, Skippy was kind of fond of Betty and Veronica and he contented himself by imagining them kicking monster butt. Eventually, he'd get around to studying his copy of the _Sunnydale Police Department Handbook_ , which lay neglected under the counter, but he really wasn't that worried about the entrance exam. After all, the fifth time's the charm. 

The nice thing about the graveyard shift was that it was usually quiet and sometimes, just sometimes, you could get through an entire Stephen King novel in one shift. The bad thing about the graveyard shift was that when it _wasn't_ quiet… 

The sliding door swished open and the smell hit him before he even looked up. Standing there between the Doritos stand and the puffy bunny key chain display were three of the ugliest guys Skippy had ever seen, stark naked and every inch more pockmarked and puss-filled than Skippy's own colorful complexion and that was saying something. If Mr. Mushnik was here, he would have told them flat out, "No shirt, no shoes, no service." But Mr. Mushnik wasn't here. Mr. Mushnik was one of those good citizens of Sunnydale currently tucked safely in his bed and, quite frankly, Skippy didn't figure that guys who weren't even wearing underwear would really grasp the no-shoes rule. 

What concerned Skippy primarily was that guys who didn't have clothes, didn't have pockets. Guys who didn't have pockets, didn't typically have money. Guys who walked into the Kwik-E-Mart in the middle of the night without money were likely to leave Skippy reimbursing Mr. Mushnik out of his own paycheck—a little fact Skippy had learned following the Sunnydale High School Band's candy drive, but that was another story entirely. 

The guys with the bad skin condition proceeded to wander down the aisles of the Kwik-E-Mart sniffing the air as they went and leaving a nice slime trail in their wake. That's all Skippy needed, janitorial duty. "Hey, I just mopped that!" Skippy protested. It wasn't true. He hadn't mopped back there in ages and if they _had_ been wearing shoes they only would have stuck to the floor where he'd dropped the case of Mango Madness Snapple the other day. 

Two of them continued sniffing their way through the store, but one turned back and approached the clerk. "You got money?" Skippy questioned as the… um… man approached. "Cash," he clarified, "we don't take checks." Not that he expected the fellow to have a checkbook tucked away anywhere, but better safe than sorry. Skippy nervously licked a blue tongue across his lips. 

In lieu of an answer, the big homely guy leaned forward and sniffed at Skippy's slushee. 

"You want a slushee?" Skippy asked hopefully. It would be nice if he could get these guys out of here with the one thing Mr. Mushnik never noticed missing from inventory. 

The naked man didn't answer but continued to sniff. 

Skippy took that as a yes. "Jumbo slushees all around," he announced. He quickly whipped out the plastic cups and set the slushee machine whirring on all three spigots at once. "Cherry, Blue Raspberry, and Grape," he added, trying to justify his haste, "a free sample of each." 

They either understood that they were being addressed, or had run out of things to sniff, or simply found the odor of the slushees attractive because all three now stood watching Skippy with fascination as he popped a straw into each of their cups. One by one, they picked up their slushees and began tentatively sucking at their straws. 

Something that might have been a smile seemed to be forming on the face of the one who'd drawn the grape, and, for a moment, Skippy felt relieved. Then he noticed that they were not making any move toward the door. He really didn't feel like serving them grape slushees all night, so in one last daring bid, Skippy dashed over to the puffy bunny key chain display and pointed out the sign that read, "Free Buffy the Puffy Bunny key chain with every Jumbo Slushee." Grabbing three puffy bunnies out of the bin, he waved them enticingly by the door. 

"Don't forget your puffy bunnies on the way out!" he chirped in what he desperately hoped sounded like a non-desperate manner. 

The creepy naked guys almost seemed to shrug. Slowly, they plodded out the door, accepting their puffy bunnies with no particular enthusiasm, and headed on their way. 

"And bring money next time!" Skippy yelled after them when they'd gotten far enough away for him to feel brave. "No more samples!" It would be just his luck that they'd come back during Mr. Mushnik's shift and ask for more freebies. 

With a heavy heart, Skippy surveyed the store. It looked like Betty and Veronica were just going to have to wait a while longer. They'd managed to knock the peanut rack over. The Twinkie shelf was in chaos. The aforementioned slime trail now coated the entire floor. And thanks to his initiative with the damn bunnies, he was going to have to pay for those slushees. Mr. Mushnik always counted the bunnies; he was just weird that way. 

God, he hoped it would be a long time before he got any more weirdos in the store on his shift. 

* * *

Giles stared at the stranger. He looked to be about thirty-five, healthy, and human. Of course, looking human and being human were two different things. Giles had to stop staying up late and watching those dreadful American movies. They were making him paranoid. 

"How'd he know my name?" Buffy questioned impatiently. "It's not as if I'm in the phone book under 'Slayer'." 

"Are you quite sure you haven't met him before?" 

"Believe me, I'd remember him," Buffy replied as she walked out of the office. She took up a position by Willow and watched the stranger. He didn't merit automatic staking, but she felt better keeping an eye on him. Actually, he did seem vaguely familiar, but she couldn't place him at all. It was more like he reminded her of someone else, an actor she'd seen on TV once or something. He was even a little cute in a sad-puppy sort of way. 

The librarian recognized that disturbingly vacant smile that was spreading across the Slayer's face. Giles rubbed his temples and walked into the main library room, clearing his throat to announce his presence. 

"Okay, Giles is here. Spill." 

"I love your no-nonsense attitude. I think that's what makes you the greatest Slayer. That and the Slayerettes," the stranger grinned. 

He looked extremely happy to be around the group and it wigged them out. This stranger was encroaching on their territory. Xander's hackles rose. 

"Who the hell are you calling a 'Slayerette?'" Xander sputtered. 

"Sorry, just an expression. Chill." 

"Don't tell me to chill. You bring a horde of demons into our nice peaceful community," Xander ranted, ignoring the snort from Giles, "and you want us to just chill?! And while we're at it, what kind of loser runs and hides behind a seventeen-year-old girl." 

The man sighed. "This is gonna be more awkward than I thought." 

"Now, sir, if you would please grace us with your name?" Giles requested. 

"G-man, you never change. I don't know how you stayed sane all these years. I bow to your fortitude." 

Xander took umbrage at the use of the nickname he had given to Giles and protested, "Hey! That's my moniker! What are you? A doppelganger?" 

"Something like that actually. Yes." 

Giles stiffened in surprise. Noticing the librarian's action, the stranger soothed, "Don't worry. I'm not here to replace anyone. To tell the truth, I wouldn't want to live through this ever again." 

"Who are you?" 

"The name I was bestowed with is Alexander LaVelle Harris. At your service," the stranger replied with a flourish. 

Xander sputtered in disbelief. This man, this… old person couldn't be him! For one thing, the man wasn't that handsome. Sure, blood, dirt, and other stuff obscured the stranger's face, but that simply could not be him! 

"You say that you are Mr. Harris," Giles reiterated. 

The stranger nodded. "I know it's hard to believe, but it's me." 

Willow asked, "But how? Did you travel back in time or, or another dimension? What are you doing here? Why are you here? Are we in danger? Is Buffy in danger? Is it Xander?" 

Oz stroked Willow's back in a gesture of comfort. She was so cute when she got worked up like this. 

Cordelia stared at the man. Now, what did he look like under all that grime? Cordelia glanced at Xander and compared the two. There definitely was a resemblance; same basic build and the body language had been setting off bells since she first saw him. His clothing looked a bit out of style, but, heck, in two decades, last year's stuff was probably back in fashion anyway and she couldn't help but notice the sparkler. On his left pinky, he wore a huge gold ring filled with gemstones of all kinds. Obviously, it was expensive and expensive always made Cordelia smile. Xander had never seemed to have much potential, but this older self hinted at serious progress. Maybe she could speed up the process by encouraging Xander to be more like him. 

The elder Harris settled into his chair. He knew that the Scooby Gang would have many questions for him. This was going to be a long night so he might as well get comfortable. "Where to begin? Well, I was running an errand and went into this antique shop. You'd think I'd learn from all those previous incidents. Anyway, I was browsing for a birthday gift and ended up with this old book. Got a deal on it. That should have clued me in. That and the proprietors." 

"Hey, I don't buy birthday presents at junk shops," Xander protested. 

"That's true," Buffy agreed, fishing out her puffy bunny key chain. "Xander buys all his birthday presents at the Kwik-E-Mart." 

"It wasn't a junk shop. It was an antique store." 

"I'm just underscoring the fact that this guy is not me. I do not buy lame gifts like old books," Xander said, oblivious to how close he came to being cracked across the skull with an old book. 

"After you've lived a few more years, you'll mature a little. Deal with it." 

"Mr. Harris," Giles hissed, "Uh, the younger one, please allow Mr. Harris, the adult Mr. Harris, to continue." 

"This is giving me a headache already," Buffy announced. 

"We could call them 'Xander Number One' and 'Xander Number Two'," Willow suggested brightly. 

"Or we could call this one 'Xander' and that one 'LaVelle'," Cordelia added. 

"How about you call me 'Alexander'?" LaVelle/Xander Number Two offered. 

"Yes, thank you. Xander, please let Alexander continue with his story." 

"Where was I? Ah, yes, Agnathea's Junkke Shoppe. Two of the strangest broads you'll ever meet run the place. Agnathea, the really old one, is always way too nice to me while her young partner, Rachael, keeps shooting me these non-stop death glares. I was shopping for a gift." 

"For who?" Cordelia asked coquettishly. 

Alexander dared a cautious glance around the room and said quietly, "Uh… that's really not relevant. Anyway, Rachael digs out the lockbox and shows me this ring," he said indicating the object of Cordelia's fascination. 

"I thought you said you bought a book," Buffy interrupted, eyeing the ring with a grimace. A blind hooker wouldn't wear something that tacky. 

"Can I tell this story?" 

"Proceed, please," Giles insisted. 

"So Rachael was being helpful. In hindsight, that fact alone should have sent me running screaming for the door. At the time, though, it just gave me a slight case of the creeps. Anyway, she shows me the ring, tells me antique rings are the _in_ gift this year and proceeds to lecture me on this sucker's history; beheaded royal mistresses, sorcerers, fairy magic, murder, intrigue, the ability to conjure demonic forces of evil—you know, the usual." 

Giles just sighed and cleaned his glasses. It didn't seem that Mr. Harris changed much once out of high school. 

"And you decided this was the perfect birthday gift?" Xander marveled. "What kind of moron are you?" 

As the room became filled with an awkward silence broken only by stifled giggles, Xander added emphatically, "He is not me!" 

"I figured the magic ring stuff was just talk," Alexander continued, "trying to add romance to the thing to up the price. You know how antique dealers are." 

The teenagers shook their heads. "No, actually we don't." 

Alexander sighed. "So, we haggle a bit and I can't get her to knock the price down anymore. I'm ready to give up and leave when she says I need to see what the ring looks like when it's being worn—and she slips the ring on my finger! Just like that, whoosh, and it's on my finger. I don't know how she did it. Particularly since I can't get the ring back off. Absolutely stuck fast. _Then_ she starts in with the death glares again. I'm wearing it; I gotta pay for it. Fortunately, Agnathea stepped in at that point. She seemed genuinely upset at what Rachael had done. She offered me half price on the ring and then absolutely insisted that I take this book." 

Alexander pulled a small leather-bound book out of his jacket pocket. The word "Azaria" was emblazoned on the cover in gold leaf. "Special of the day: Free book with every ring," he shrugged. "So, anyway, I figured it was a pretty good deal and if I ever managed to get the damn ring off, I'll have my shopping done." 

"Here." Cordelia took Alexander's hand and started massaging his little finger. "I know jewelry. Trust me." 

The physical contact with Cordelia Chase had a noticeable effect on Alexander's speech, but he managed to continue. 

"I… uh… I… ::ahem::…I started to skim through the book on the sidewalk outside and I caught sight of Rachael flipping the 'closed' sign over in the window. It was two o'clock in the afternoon, so I thought it was odd, but figured maybe they were taking a late lunch." 

"This looks expensive," Cordelia interrupted, inspecting the ring as she worked it off his finger. Once freed, she held it up to the light and asked, "How much did you pay for this?" 

"Counting blood, sweat, and tears?" Alexander asked, snatching the ring back and slipping it into his pocket. "Too much." 

Cordelia sniffed in disapproval as the ring disappeared from her sight. 

"As I was saying… I'd skimmed over the first few pages of the book, not really making much sense out of it, when my knee starts acting up. I decide to drive home and look at the book later. Just as I get in the car, I see a legion of demons, our friends from earlier, running down the street. Broad daylight, mind you. Sent the townsfolk scattering. So I basically got the hell out of there." 

"Usually a good plan," Cordelia agreed. 

"But they followed me. And I mean not just as random human, in the wrong place at the wrong time, here's an easy victim. I mean they were all, every single one of them, following me. You wouldn't believe how fast demons can run. I had the pedal to the floor and I couldn't lose 'em. A person could really use the Slayer at a time like this, Bruce Lee even, but the Buffster is not answering her pager. Which, I might add, she is supposed to keep turned on at all times for emergencies just such as these." He glared pointedly at the young blonde. 

"Hey, even Slayers need a little space," Buffy muttered. 

"I'm thinking I'm dead meat—demon buffet—monster smorgasbord—" 

"We get the idea." 

"And that's when it got particularly weird." 

"Because up until now it was only weird in a non-particular sort of way?" Buffy asked. 

"The book, which I'd tossed on the passenger seat, starts flipping pages by itself. It stops at the beginning of a passage titled 'temporal traversal.' I figure I don't have anything to lose, the end is pretty much nigh, so I grab the book and while trying to steer my way around the goo squad… do you have any idea what that does to your windshield? Anyway, I manage to read the passage out loud. Nothing happened for a minute, but then a storm blew in out of nowhere and suddenly I was in Hong Kong." 

"Hong Kong?" Buffy repeated. 

"Hong Kong," he confirmed. 

"Hong Kong, like half-way around the planet, Hong Kong?" Willow asked. 

"That's the one. Didn't figure it out for a while though. I ended up in one of those high-rise parking lots—weird enough under the circumstances, but not noticeably Hong Kongese. Managed to stop the car before hurtling to my death, but not without some residual damage and when the demons started popping in, I decided to make a break for it on foot. Out on the street is when I started to figure out I wasn't in Kansas anymore. I also couldn't help but notice that either Hong Kong was hosting a tribute to _Starsky & Hutch_ or the _Antique Road Show_ was in town because there wasn't a car on the street made after 1973." 

"There was a point to this story, right?" Xander asked. 

Alexander just turned to Giles and asked, "Was I always this annoying?" 

Giles nodded reflexively and quickly added, "Please continue." 

"So, I figure that reading the passage in the book is what brought me here and maybe if I read it again it will take me somewhere else and, with the demons closing in, anywhere else would be better than here. Somewhere in the midst of this, I'm wondering why these things keep happening to me and how I just want to be at home eating leftovers. The portal appears just the same as last time and this time when I go through I find myself… home! Which is actually not where I want to be when I think about it rationally because I'm basically just putting out the welcome mat for the minions of evil to come traipsing in behind me. And sure enough, there's Joyce with the kids, all up to their elbows in finger paint, and I realize I have got to get myself and my fan club out of there." 

"Time to book," Oz muttered. 

"Cute, Oz, cute. As the man says, time to book. I managed to—" 

"Wait a minute," Buffy interrupted. "Clarification needed. You live with my mother?" 

"Temporarily. Only since the rain of frogs collapsed my roof." 

Willow whimpered involuntarily and hugged Oz tightly. 

Alexander offered the girl a sympathetic smile and continued. 

"It's supposed to be repaired by April. So, anyway, I managed to—" 

"Sorry." Buffy stopped him again. "Clarification still needed. Children. Finger paint. Explanations?" 

"She runs a pre-school art academy. There's quite a demand for it, actually. Free advice for everyone," Alexander said, addressing the room at large. "May 2011. Fertility Festival. Sounds like harmless fun. If you don't like diapers, don't go." 

He offered Giles a particularly knowing smile and Giles instinctively inched away to the other side of the room. 

"And then?" Cordelia prompted. 

"Well, I think Fertility Festival is fairly self-explanatory." 

"What happened after you opened the portal to Mrs. Summers' house?" Willow clarified. 

"Oh. That was the cool part. I managed to open a second portal right on the opening of the first one, so that there was nowhere the demons could go, but through it. Now, I'd started to notice a pattern and had a little theory. I'm thinking about Bruce Lee when I open the portal the first time and I end up in 1970's Hong Kong. I'm thinking about home when I open the portal the second time and I end up home." 

"And you developed a hypothesis that focusing on a specific place and time while reciting the passage would transport you there," Giles surmised. 

"The most frightening thing about that statement, Rupert, is that I understood it. Yes. And that's how I ended up here." 

"Why now?" Oz questioned. 

"I was still thinking of home. Except, it was the Sunnydale of my youth, not my present," Alexander replied. "Back when everyone still lived in town and we had the whole Super Friends thing jiving. Back before the Watcher Council fired Giles and hired that really annoying guy." 

Buffy and Giles both frowned. 

"How do we know you're even for real?" Xander asked. 

"Look, do you want to compare scars or something? Scars I got an endless supply of, at least some of which date back to high school. How about the birthmark? That's gotta prove it's me." 

"Xander doesn't have a birthmark," Cordelia said. 

"Sure I do." 

Willow also shook her head. "No. I've known Xander forever—we used to run through sprinklers together—no birthmark." 

"Definitely no birthmark," Buffy agreed. 

"How would you know?" Giles demanded. 

"Speedo." 

"Speedos don't reveal everything." 

A communal smirk spread across the faces of all three women in the room. 

"So," Oz said, looking at Xander, "birthmark?" 

"All right, so I have a birthmark," Xander acquiesced. 

"A speedo-hidin' birthmark?" Buffy asked, with a widening grin. 

Xander nodded curtly. 

"Well?" Cordelia prompted. 

"What? He's me. You win." 

"But he hasn't actually proved it yet," Buffy said. 

"He could be an imposter," Willow added. 

"We have to be sure," Cordelia insisted. 

With a shrug, Alexander unbuckled and the crowd gathered closer. 

"Hey!" Xander shouted. "Stop that! Giles! Tell them they can't do that in a school library!" 

Giles only polished his glasses yet again. "Well, technically we do need to verify this gentleman's story." 

"Will you relax," Alexander said. "I'm not auditioning for Chippendale's. Birthmark only." 

"What if I give you a dollar?" Buffy quipped. 

"Inflation, baby. A dollar doesn't go far where I come from." Alexander slipped his underwear just low enough to expose a brown spot tantalizingly close to places teenage girls weren't supposed to think about, but frequently did. 

"Oh, that's cute," Willow announced. "It looks just like a little tiny mushroom." 

Xander squeaked in protest. 

"His birthmark," Buffy clarified, "not his—never mind." 

"How do we know it's not just painted on?" Oz asked. 

"I've got nail polish remover," Cordelia announced, quickly producing a bottle from her purse. 

The question of who was going to apply the said solvent turned into a bit of a skirmish. Alexander was somewhat helpless to defend himself; one hand was already occupied with keeping his pants from falling to the floor. Of course, it wasn't as if he was especially inclined to fend off a band of teenage girls anyway. 

"Giles, make them stop!" Xander squealed. 

"It's for real," Buffy announced. 

"The color's too natural to be a tattoo, I think," Oz added. "You'd have to run a biopsy to be sure." 

"We don't have time for that sort of thing," Alexander said. 

"Nor the financial resources," Giles added. 

"I think we've proven that, however it happened, this guy is me from the future," Xander said. "Can we just move on now?" 

"We still haven't proven anything, except he's got a birthmark," Cordelia pointed out. 

"And I have a birthmark, too. I admit it. Okay?" 

"Lots of people have birthmarks," Willow said. "You weren't even looking to see if it was the same one or not." 

"What do you want from me?" 

Buffy smirked. "Drop 'em." 

"What?!" 

Oz wasn't sure if he was really rescuing Xander or if something about the gleam in Willow's eye was getting to him. "Come on," he said, motioning Xander back toward the stacks. Moments later, he returned and announced, "Cute little mushroom. Check." 

Satisfied with the results, Giles finally interrupted the squirmfest. "First things first, we need to send Alexander back to his own time. He may have already irrevocably changed the future chain of events, which would be his past. Alexander, do you remember any of this?" 

"Hm?" Alexander hadn't been paying much attention to Giles. He was fascinated by the squirming, unhappy younger him. Now Alexander knew why he was always harassed. It was fun to torment someone so—tormentable. 

"Do you remember any of this from your past?" Giles asked again. "When you were a teenager were you visited by your future self?" 

"My senior year was hectic," Alexander mused. "A hell of a lot of weird things happened. Buffy and dead boy returning. That entire homecoming fiasco. There were those zombies. Faith. But no, no visits from adult me." 

Giles nodded in resignation. "Then we already have the beginning of a time paradox. You should refrain from telling any of us future events. You don't want to change your history any more than it already has been." 

Alexander snorted. "Yes, I do! Believe me, there are some events I wish never happened. That entire Spike mess. That was bad. That was one of the worst days in my life and I've had my share." 

Buffy walked over to Alexander and calmly asked, "What do you mean?" 

"Buffy!" Giles sharply reprimanded. "Do not encourage Alexander to give you information. Sir, you must not inform us of future events. It is unwise and disastrous results may occur." 

"No offense, G-man, but I wouldn't mind changing some stuff. The knee incident. Who wants the ability to tell when a demon's approaching? Not me! I like being in the dark. I don't want to know because I always get hurt. And do you know how many times I've been in jail? They've reserved a special place for me! I have my own parking spot!" Alexander complained. 

Giles calmly replied, "You must live with the choices you make." 

"The choices I make? Hah! This was a Buffy choice." 

"Hey!" Buffy exclaimed. 

"Hey, yeah, whatever. I like my knee. I want my old knee back. I don't want a freakin' demon knee!" 

"A demon knee?" Giles whispered in amazement. "How…? No! Don't answer. We'll handle the situation when it occurs." 

Alexander nodded his head in disbelief. "Riiiiiiiiiiight. Just like you handled the entire tweed incident. You really should stop wearing that stuff. That was bad mojo. I still have nightmares. Do you know how traumatizing it was to see you strip naked that fast?" 

"What do you mean? No! Don't tell me. I'd rather not know." Giles looked nonplused. He warily looked at his blazer hanging innocently on a chair and smoothed his hands over his trousers. 

Alexander shrugged. "I just want to save you some pain and agony, but, hey, it's your decision and, in the end, your flesh." 

"Thank you, Alexander, for your concern. I will take your suggestion into consideration," Giles politely replied. "Let us get back on task, shall we?" 

Buffy frowned. "Wait a minute! Why do you get to know something and we don't? I want to know about my future, too!" 

"Yeah!" Cordelia agreed. "We should each get to know something." Turning to Alexander, she demanded, "Tell me something about my future." 

"Learn to spell Oznowicz." 

"Gesundheit." 

Willow looked perplexed and Oz came as close to an exhibition of sheer panic as he ever had in his entire life, which is to say that his eyes widened almost imperceptibly and his mouth went dry. 

"Oznowicz?" Willow repeated. "But that's—" 

Giles sighed again. This had already turned into a horrid day and it was going to become even worse. "People, please. We need to concentrate on getting rid of these demons and getting Alexander safely back to his own time." 

"Look, I'm not going home until you can guarantee me that every last one of those creatures is history. I'm not leading them back to home base again. And, actually, being in the past isn't so bad. Serious nostalgia action going here." Alexander propped his feet on the table and placed his hands behind his head. "The Bronze hasn't been torched yet. You can still get a jumbo slushee for under five bucks. Only one Hellmouth to deal with. These were the good ol' days." 

"One Hellmouth?" Willow repeated. 

"How many Hellmouths are there?" Buffy asked blankly. 

"Oh, you know, more than enough." 

"How can there be more than one Hellmouth?" 

"Armageddon." 

"The movie?" Buffy asked. 

"No. The Armageddon. End of the world. Death, destruction, et cetera." 

Buffy shrugged and said, "Been there, done that." 

"Buffy, you're a great Slayer. Heck, you're the greatest, but that wasn't the end. You won't see the end. I won't see the end. That's someone else's battle. At least, that's my hope. I'd like to settle down and do the family thing again. I want a wife and kids, the whole white picket fence package. Saving the world and battling demons in my senility is just not how I picture my golden years. I'm thinking nurse's aide and sponge bath." 

"Hung up on the again part," Xander sputtered. "You know, 'do the family thing again'." 

"Ex-wife from Hell. Living proof succubae exist." 

Willow instantly turned a nice bright shade of magenta. 

"You have an ex-wife?" Cordelia exclaimed. 

"Uh… ex-wives actually." 

Cordelia slugged Xander in the arm. 

"Hey! What did I do?" 

"It's what you will do." 

"So hit him!" 

Cordelia just glared at the older version of her obviously ex-boyfriend. 

"We grow up, Cordy. Some things don't work out," Alexander sadly replied. "I wish they had." 

Silence reigned in the library. Each person was left to his or her own thoughts and depression softly laid its hand. The sorrow in Alexander's voice was frightening. It sounded as if the future was not rosy, as if darkness would fall upon their small and intrepid band. Willow and Oz grasped hands in comfort. Buffy listlessly toyed with her bracelet. Questions ran through everyone's minds. They wondered what was going to happen to them and to their friends. The reality that the future was not as simple as "and they all lived happily ever after" slowly seeped into their brains. 

Giles heavily sat down. He had to stop the pervading sense of doom. "Well, it is quite late. I think everyone should return home and get a good night's sleep. Sleep in late and we'll reconvene for brunch. With a clear head and sleep, we should be able to discern of a way to deal with our new friends. Alexander, I wonder if you wouldn't mind loaning me your volume of _Azaria_. I don't believe I've seen an intact copy before." 

Alexander looked a bit nervous over parting with his ticket home, but if you can't trust a librarian with a book… "Sure, Giles. Just make sure I get it back." 

Buffy snapped out of her funk and said, "Brunch it is—I'll even make the donut run on my way over. It's time to book, everyone." She glanced at Giles and the small leather tome. "I don't mean book-book, I mean… oh, to hell with it. I'm going home." 

* * *

A throng of teenagers swayed on the dance floor to the slow beat reverberating throughout The Bronze. Others played pool and chatted with friends. It was Friday night and school was the furthest thing from their minds. 

Harmony gabbed with her entourage and flipped her long blonde hair over a bare shoulder. 

"Can you believe Cordelia? With that loser Xander?" Harmony asked. "Slumming it is one thing, but I never thought Cordelia would go native." 

As one, Harmony's followers nodded their heads in agreement. All were dressed in the trendiest of designer labels and outward perfection had been achieved. 

Bored with the worship, Harmony glanced at the dance floor. Her gaze flitted from one male to another and discarded each as unworthy. High school boys were so passé. A figure detaching itself from the shadows caught her eye and she smiled. Now, he was worthy. 

Casting a look towards one of her entourage, Harmony smiled. "There's tonight's prize." 

Suddenly, a malodor assaulted the Bronze patrons. The crowd recoiled in aversion and moved closer to the stage. The air was quickly turning rank and those nearest the entrance covered their noses. 

Harmony and her clique stood frozen. They could not believe the audacity of the latest patrons. They were naked, which, granted, was daring enough, but their skin glistened with an oily residue. The skin treatment, or lack thereof, was so eighties and it was fast becoming apparent, as they moved through the crowd, that they were the source of the new fragrance wafting through The Bronze's ventilation system. 

"I think they're with the band," someone near the pool table said. 

The interlopers snuffled a nearby girl and she shrank in fear and abhorrence. A few feet away, Harmony's prize squealed like a girl and bolted for the side exit. 

"It's obvious standards have changed," Harmony sniffed as she seized her Gucci tote. 

The five girls hurriedly scooped up their purses and followed Harmony's lead. They swept past the horrible individuals and into the night. 

* * *

Xander waved at Cordelia as she sped off toward home. Sighing, he glanced at his companion. He still looked like he'd been dragged through the ground. Xander delicately sniffed in Alexander's direction and immediately regretted it. 

"Woah! Bath for you, Pigpen." 

"Same to you, Wonderboy." 

Xander immediately sniffed himself and attempted to control his roiling stomach. Demons needed to bathe more often. 

"Parents not home as usual?" Alexander asked as Xander opened the front door. 

"Yup. It's just us two wild and crazy guys!" Xander replied, heading toward the kitchen. 

Alexander followed down the familiar hallway. The place still looked the same as he remembered it—barely lived in. 

"I've got a secret stash of Pop Tarts. If you're good I'll even split the last can of Redi-Whip with you," Xander offered, waggling the can under Alexander's nose. 

Alexander's face softened as he reached out and took the can. "Now that brings back memories." 

"Really?" Xander asked, unable to dredge up any warm fuzzy moments associated with non-dairy whipped dessert topping. 

"Something to look forward to," Alexander said as he put the can back in the fridge. "But, clean up first, then snack." 

"Hey, don't tell me what to do. Me, host. You, guest. Get mouthy and you can go find a room at the Downtowner." 

"Do you _want_ to digest demon encrustation?" 

Xander made a face. "Thanks for the imagery." 

"Besides, give me a few minutes and I think we can do better than Pop Tarts." 

"I don't think there's much else in the way of edible food. Just stuff Mom bought in one of her moods." 

"Not to worry. I'll whip something up." 

A hopeful look began to form. Xander had worked up an appetite and he hadn't eaten since before this whole mess began. "You cook?" 

"We cook," Alexander replied as he did a quick inventory of the refrigerator. 

"Good?" 

Nodding in affirmation, Alexander said, "Five-star. Or so I've been told." 

"To the showers!" 

* * *

Xander bounded down the stairs in anticipation. He could smell enticing scents from the kitchen and he wondered what Alexander was making. It was weird to see himself as an adult. Xander wondered what he looked like when he was spiffy. In fact, there were a lot of questions that Alexander could answer for him. 

He found Alexander was now clad in a hot pink T-shirt that read: "This is not PMS. I am always this bitchy." He looked up and waved a wooden spoon in greeting as Xander skidded to a halt in the kitchen. Alexander still had a towel draped around his neck and smelled faintly of Mom's bubble bath, which Xander found slightly disturbing. 

"So what kind of grub do you have for us here?" Xander wondered sniffing in the direction of the stove. 

"Not sure," Alexander confessed, "but we're going to call it goulash." 

Xander grabbed a bowl. After shoveling in a few spoonfuls, he sighed in appreciation. "Hey, this is good. Do you think I could learn to cook like this?" 

Alexander smiled fondly at the boy, as he sat down across the table from him. "What do you think?" 

Xander blushed in embarrassment. "Duh! I always say stupid things." 

"You're young, you'll grow out of it. Kind of." 

"Do I make any mistakes?" 

"A few." 

"Willing to share?" 

"For starters, stay away from the Downtowner." 

"No, seriously," Xander complained. "I want to know the important stuff." 

Alexander became suddenly fascinated with his bowl of goulash. "I am serious," he said without looking up. "Stay away from the Downtowner Apartments and stay away from Faith. The girl is very bad news." 

Alexander looked up to see Xander nodding in half-hearted acknowledgment of not quite understanding. 

"I cannot emphasize this enough. She is _not_ worth it." 

"Okay," Xander said, vaguely alarmed at the tone in the older man's voice. "Um, anything less cryptic to share with me?" 

"Sell the Chevy when it hits 123,428 miles and not a mile over." 

"Hang on. Let me get a notepad." Scribbling in his chemistry lab book, Xander repeated, "123,000 and what?" 

"Oh, heck. Play it safe. Just make it 123,000." 

"Gotcha." 

"Don't loan money to Uncle Billy. It's not really for a kidney transplant." 

"Okay, got that! Any more?" 

"Do not let Larry be the designated driver at the big frat party." 

Xander looked up quizzically, but before he could form the words, Alexander said, "Don't ask. Just make sure you remember it." 

"Right. Next?" 

"Never go to Las Vegas with anyone named Tina." 

"Tina was the ex-wife from hell?" 

"No. Tina was kind of sweet actually. She just wasn't… well, technically speaking… human." 

This time, Xander didn't even try to ask, he just dutifully scribbled it down in his notebook. 

"Okay, so who was the ex-wife from hell?" 

"Sorry, no hints on that one." 

"What do you mean no hints on that one? The whole point here is to avoid my greatest mistakes and the phrase 'ex-wife from hell' rather implies an extremely large mistake." 

"Yeah, but sometimes good things come out of bad situations. That one was worth it." 

"What could possibly be worth…?" 

Alexander interrupted him by pulling out his wallet and sliding a photograph across the table. 

It was a young girl with a silly smile on her face. The unmistakable standard school-picture background obviously wasn't ever going to change. Xander squeaked with recognition. It could have been Xander's own kindergarten picture, well, except for the pigtails. He stared in silence for several minutes before he finally asked, "What's her name?" 

Alexander took the picture back and slid it into his wallet without answering. "Giles is right. I've told you too much already. There are certain things about my life that I don't want changed and she's one of them." 

"So," Xander asked after another awkward silence, "what do I do with my life?" 

"You run a restaurant." 

"I own something?! Wow. My name's in lights." 

"Well, not technically own exactly. Manage." 

"Food management." Xander paused and let the idea sink in. "As in 'Would you like fries with that, Sir?'" 

"No," Alexander said firmly. "Restaurant management. As in, 'Would Madame like a table by the window?' Trust me, it's very classy." 

"Cool!" 

"And really, the time at Burger World wasn't all that bad. They let me have free Cokes." 

"Oh." 

Xander was contemplating his doom in silence, when the front door slammed open. They both jumped and then quickly relaxed as the familiar banshee yell echoed down the hall. 

"Who the hell left all the lights on in the middle of the night?!" 

"I'm in the kitchen, Mom," both men answered. 

A haggard figure appeared in the doorway and glowered at Xander. "Do you have any idea what time it is?" she spat. 

"No," Xander said, "and I bet you don't either." 

She just snorted and redirected her glower towards Alexander. "So, who the hell is this and why is he wearing my clothes?" 

"Hope you don't mind," Alexander said. As he spoke, he walked to the stove and ladled out another bowl of the goulash. "I didn't have time to pack any jammies and this was the only thing I could lay my hands on that was clean. Here, have some goulash." 

Any comments she might have made about a stranger pawing through her laundry basket were lost when the bowl of food was placed in front of her. 

"He cooks?" she asked no one in particular. 

"He cooks," Xander confirmed. 

"Can I keep him?" 

* * *

The sun graced the skies with a merry glow. The low drone of lawn mowers could be heard in the distance, but most Sunnydale residents had not stirred from their deep slumber. Newspapers neatly lay upon front steps and flowers swayed in the slight breeze. 

A trio of demons wandered the peaceful residential streets of Sunnydale, a trail of slime stretching behind them. In the distance, more demons could be seen. Some batted at mailboxes while others munched on flowers. With a change in the wind, each demon raised its head and sniffed. In unison, they began loping down the street. The One was nearby. 

From an open window a radio could be faintly heard. A voice drifted over the airwaves, "Late last night, many fine Sunnydale establishments were vandalized. The police speculate that the looters were local teenagers high on PCP. In other news—" 

* * *

Buffy casually tossed a stake in the air from her position on the library table. Her legs swung freely and she sighed every once in a while. 

"Will, what are you doing?" Buffy asked. 

Willow didn't even look up from the books and papers that were scattered around her. "Hang on. Almost got it." 

Oz leaned over her and observed, "It looks suspiciously like something assigned from school." 

"Willow, it's Saturday," Buffy protested. 

"Exactly! Normally, I have everything done on Friday, but nooooooo, I had other things to do." 

Rolling her eyes, Buffy flipped a second stake into the air. 

"Speaking of other things," Oz said, "shouldn't the Xanders be here by now?" 

"How would I know?" Willow snapped nervously. She flipped through her calculus book rapidly, trying to regain an air of nonchalance. "I don't keep tabs on him. I mean them. I mean him. You know what I mean. Or at least I hope you know what I mean. 'Cause I'm not sure I know what I mean." 

Buffy opened her mouth to reply, but the approaching sound of Cordelia and Xander bickering interrupted her. Buffy hopped down off the table while deftly catching both stakes. She watched as the library doors swung open and the couple entered. 

"Rude much? Where's the courtesy these days? Oz holds the door open for Willow." 

"Not getting the point and I don't care." 

Cordelia glared at her boyfriend. "I don't know why I put up with you." 

"You? You put up with me?" Xander scoffed. "It's the other way around, babe." 

Xander bounded past Buffy and made a beeline towards the pastries. He bypassed the scones and dove right into the creme-filled chocolate frosted donuts. After acquiring a sufficient stash of them, he shrugged his backpack off and plopped down beside Willow. Through a mouthful of sweet stickiness, Xander mumbled, "Do we have anything to drink besides tea?" 

Oz shook his head almost imperceptibly. 

Buffy noticed with a frown that someone was missing. "Where's Alexander?" 

"Mom has him. Ever since she found out he could cook she's been in happy land." 

"You told your _mother_ about him?" Buffy was incredulous. Mothers had never been in the loop before. 

"Nah, we just said he was a friend from out of town." 

"You brought home a strange man and said he was 'a friend' and your mother doesn't have a problem with this?" 

"Oh, please," Cordelia said. "Xander could bring home a strange man and say he was his pimp and his mother wouldn't have a problem with it as long as he could cook." 

Xander flinched, but he decided to focus on the cooking aspect of that statement. "You should smell the house, Buffy. Bread's a-bakin' and meat's a-roastin'. It's feast time at the Harris household!" 

"You cook?" 

"I cook. Or at least I _will_ cook which is practically the same thing." 

"He makes a delightful crepe," Cordelia agreed. "Even better than Etienne and for free. He should have his own restaurant." 

"I do," Alexander informed them as he dashed into the library. 

"What happened to Mom and kitchen detail?" Xander asked. 

"Mom's locked in the bathroom with all the cooking sherry. We had visitors." 

"Oh, my God," Cordelia breathed. "Are you okay?" 

"Yeah, no sweat. Stole dad's car—he probably shouldn't be driving it anyway—and made a break for it. It looked like they all followed me, but I lost them at the railroad tracks. We're down three more demons thanks to the good people at Amtrak." 

"Why would the demons go to your house?" Willow wondered. 

Giles wandered out of the back balancing a stack of books. "I've got a theory about that. Certain demons track their prey by smell. I'm not sure our demons understand that they've got two Xanders crossing paths. I think after they fled from their initial attack, they backtracked on the wrong scent. Judging from the reports on the radio this morning, they've visited a few of Xander's recent haunts." 

"So how are we making with the chemistry?" Xander asked. 

"Did you bring your lab book?" Willow questioned. 

"Excuse me," Giles sputtered bewilderedly. "A horde of demons loose on the streets ranks slightly above a study session, I think." 

"We have a test on Monday," Willow protested as she took Xander's lab book from him. "And you and Oz are hogging all the good books anyway." 

"Sorry," Oz said, glancing up from a huge volume that, oddly, seemed to be illuminating him with a light source of its own. "Did you want this one?" 

"That's okay, Oz," Xander said. "You could probably use the rays." 

Willow flipped through Xander's lab book and frowned. "What's this? 'Bell the Chovy at 123000m'?" 

Xander's teacup froze halfway to his mouth. 

"What's a 'Chovy'? And why would you want to bell one?" wondered Willow who, as accustomed as she was to deciphering Xander's handwriting, was still at a loss. "Is this on the test?" 

Xander hastily set his cup down. Ignoring the slight spill, he tore the offending page from his lab book. "Just a little creative writing, nothing to be concerned about." Carefully, he folded the paper into a square and placed it into his pocket. "All gone!" 

The boy was as smooth as a rasp. Giles wasn't sure what Xander was up to, but he paid close attention to the paper's resting-place anyway. 

Cordelia and Buffy tugged Alexander onto a chair between them, flanking him on both sides. 

"Details," Cordelia demanded. 

"Um… L.A. It's a lot of fun." 

Cordelia shot him a disbelieving look. "Duh. Rodeo Drive. Hello?" 

"Enough about you. My turn. Me?" Buffy asked. 

It was quite obvious that they were competing for Alexander's attention and the man was soaking it up. Ulterior motives be damned, this was the first time in his life Buffy and Cordelia had ever paid so much attention to him and he was going to enjoy it. 

Willow was stunned. Buffy and Cordelia were putting the moves on Alexander! 

"Skanky—" Willow muttered under her breath. 

"What?" 

A furious red crept over Willow's feature. "Uh… Wilhelm Schanke! He was an eighteenth-century chemist who had some really interesting theories about… um… uh… Oh, look, tea! And pastries with creamy filling!" 

Willow busied herself by pouring tea for everyone. Thank goodness, no one was paying attention. Well, except for Giles. She cast a weak smile in his direction and handed him a filled teacup. Giles simply smiled in return. 

Willow covertly glanced at Alexander and Xander. They both seemed unaware. Xander was in heaven—pastries occupied his hands and mouth. Alexander appeared to enjoy his conversation with the two beautiful girls as they none-too-subtly endeavored to glean hints of their futures. Great, now they're both horning in on my Xander! Okay, so Cordelia's dating him, but! Willow's train of thought was interrupted when Cordelia spoke. 

"You know, I was thinking," Cordelia said as she delicately raised a teacup. 

Xander guffawed and began choking, but Alexander warmly smiled at Cordelia and said, "And?" 

"Why can't you stay for a while after we've taken care of the demons? There's no law that says you have to go back as soon as they've been taken care of is there?" 

Willow pounded Xander's back as he gasped for air. Pouring some more tea, Willow handed him his cup. Xander sipped gratefully. 

"Look, don't you have a job to get back to? And what about—" Xander suddenly felt awkward broaching the subject of future offspring in front of the others, especially since Cordelia had already gone into a huff over a birthday present that might be, but probably wasn't, for her. "What about, y'know, what'shername?" 

"She's fine. Joyce. Finger paint. Remember? Besides," he added, "it doesn't really matter when I leave because I can still return home at whatever time I want." 

Xander shuddered. Despite making peace with his future self, it was still darned spooky having him lingering about. 

Willow smiled in sympathy. She took his hand in hers in comfort. The warmth of his hand sent delightful thrills down Willow's spine. They moved closer, their sides pressed against one another. Fingers intertwined, their grasp tightened. 

"Time paradox," Giles repeated. "Must I continue to explain the dangers of a complex time paradox? The longer Alexander remains here, the higher the risk. We wouldn't want to pollute the time stream, would we?" he asked them pointedly. 

"So what about Azazel?" Buffy asked. 

"The little demon that Isaac Asimov used to carry around in his pocket?" 

Oz looked up from the steady glow of his reading material and nearly said something, but ultimately remained silent. 

Buffy ignored Giles' mental wanderings and pointed to the little book he had tucked under his arm. 

"Oh, you mean _Azaria_. It was fascinating." He handed the book in question back to Alexander. "But not much help, I'm afraid. It's an ancient text—probably in scroll form originally, translated and recopied into book format sometime around…" 

"Giles," Buffy interrupted. 

"Hm?" 

"Time passing. Point still not being made." 

"Oh, yes. The point is that _Azaria_ seems to consist solely of spells and rituals designed to open temporal and dimensional gateways. Nothing about demon conquering. I'm afraid my other books don't seem to have much on these specific demons either." 

"I came up empty on these, too," Oz added, waving at the stack of books next to his chair. 

"Well, there are still plenty more books to look through. If young Mr. Harris is done inhaling pastries, that is." 

Xander was startled. "Huh?" 

"Pay attention much?" Cordelia snapped. 

"Um, yeah," Xander replied as he disengaged his hand from Willow's. A fidgety smile conveyed his feelings toward Willow. She understood and moved away. Distance was good. 

"Yeah, the library. Place of books," Xander commented as he gathered his scattered wits. 

"Why not search the database?" Alexander asked. 

"Database?" Giles questioned in skepticism. 

"The one the Watchers' put up. Oh, wait. They don't do that for a while yet. Too American for them." 

"Shall we begin the research?" Giles pointedly said. It wouldn't do to encourage them. 

"Might as well save Sunnydale from those marauding gang members on PCP," Alexander replied. 

"Huh?" 

"I was listening to the news on the car radio. That's, once again, the official take on current events." 

"So the Sunnydale town council is still in denial land?" Buffy guessed. 

"It's not that I really expected anything else," Oz reflected, "but you would think an entire troop of demons, not to mention a fair scattering of demon carcasses, might get us some sort of acknowledgment from the authorities—from the sanitation department if nothing else." 

Alexander just shrugged. "Trust me. They're more fun when they're clueless." 

* * *

Officer Barney Nemanich was reading the sports page of _The Sunnydale Times_. A cup rested comfortably in his hand and he slowly brought it up for a sip of hot caffeine. His partner, Hoppenworth (no one remembered his first name—it was Julius or something) was catching a few zzzz's. Drool glistened as it trickled down the side of his mouth. The seats in a standard-issued police car were quite comfy and Hoppenworth was still adjusting from a switch off the night shift. Nemanich was glad he had the day shift. Night shifts were always a bother. 

A foul odor wafted on the light breeze, disrupting Nemanich's pleasant mood. He wrinkled his nose in annoyance and glanced at his sleeping partner suspiciously. A few sniffs determined the source was in fact outside the cruiser. Someone was using a revolting fertilizer. 

Quickly rolling up the window, Nemanich looked out and his coffee cup slipped from his grasp. Scalding java spilled onto his lap and splashed onto the seat. Cursing, yelling, and scrambling for napkins, Nemanich accidentally hit the horn. 

The loud blare woke Hoppenworth and he fuzzily looked at Nemanich. He couldn't understand why Nemanich was writhing around so much. A noxious smell distracted him. Frowning, Hoppenworth rolled down his window and immediately regretted his action. 

"Ugh! What is that smell?" Quickly, Hoppenworth covered his mouth and nose with a hand and furiously cranked the window closed. 

In between gasps of breath, Nemanich replied, "We've got a bunch of naked frat boys running around again." 

Hoppenworth followed the direction of Nemanich's pointing arm. A few hundred feet away were ten, large, naked linebackers. Each was approximately seven feet in height and covered with the nastiest looking boils Nemanich and Hoppenworth had ever seen. 

"More paperwork," Hoppenworth yawned. "I thought the day shift would be easier. Don't frat boys sleep in?" 

Hoppenworth and Nemanich stumbled out of their car, old containers of fast food and girlie magazines tumbling out as they did. They weren't the most graceful officers in the Sunnydale Police Department. The two police officers ignored the litter and hitched up their belts. 

"Decided to go for a stroll without clothes?" Hoppenworth commented as he approached the drunken college boys. 

The wind had shifted; the revolting smell was now downwind, but the source of the odor was obvious. 

"Damn, is it pledge week again?" Nemanich wondered. 

The group ignored the police officers and continued loping down the street. 

"Hey, now! Where do you think you're going?" Nemanich crossly said. 

The group continued on. One of them stopped and sniffed at Nemanich. Seeing his opportunity, Hoppenworth seized the straggler and slapped some handcuffs on. 

The captive bellowed in fury. He kicked Hoppenworth while wriggling his arms in a vain attempt to slip the manacles off. His friends heard the bleat and ambled back. Hoppenworth rolled about in pain while Nemanich futilely tried to quiet the prisoner. 

Seized from behind, Nemanich felt his feet lift off the ground. Fear emanated from him in waves. He struggled like a netted fish, but could not break free. 

"Hoppenworth! Help! Someone! Help me!" Nemanich called out. 

It was too late. Six of the football players had already caught Hoppenworth. Nemanich's stomach clenched as he heard screams of agony mingled with horrible crunching sounds. He kicked frantically, but two assailants captured his legs. They opened their mouths widely and ghastly pointed teeth filled Nemanich's field of vision. 

The last sound he heard was a "pop" and slurping. 

* * *

Stacks of books were piled high on the tables and floor. Xander blindly stared at the book in front of him. Gibberish taunted him. He hated reading these books. He liked the ones with the engravings, but Cordelia had already made a point of snatching up all the nymph picture books. 

"Here it is!" Willow exclaimed. "I've found it. I've found it, right?" 

Giles and Alexander gathered around the excited redhead. The illustration of the demon had been done in vivid colors. There was no mistaking the creature or its bad skin. It was also depicted snacking on a human head which wasn't doing Willow's stomach any good. Both Alexander and Giles scanned the ornate script. 

"Let's see… worshippers? Or is it students? They seek the Gaalian Ring. The Gaalian Ring? I've never heard of it," Giles commented. 

"There's more info in _Danziger's Metaphysical Index_. This book is just a descriptive manual of various demons." 

Surprised, Giles looked at Alexander. "You read Arabic?" 

Alexander shrugged. "Hang with you and Willow and you're bound to pick something up." 

"Me?" Willow squeaked. 

Leafing through the pages, Alexander replied, "Uh-huh. 'Course, you're more into Medieval Latin. I think you're branching out, though. Hmmm… Gaalian Ring. Here we go. Damn that Rachael!" 

"What? What did you find?" 

"The shopkeepers—Rachael and Agnathea. Especially Rachael. She was obviously trying to harness the power of the demons with me as bait. All because I ran over her cat and dog once." 

"You killed a kitty and puppy?!" Willow squeaked. 

"Not on _purpose_!" 

"How," Giles wondered, "do you run over a cat _and_ dog accidentally?" 

"Hey! One was in front and when I backed up… well, there you go. Look. I get enough flack at home. I don't need any here." 

"And this is important because…?" Buffy asked. 

"Quite right, Buffy. We need to return to the situation at hand. Ah! Here we are—the ring attracts the… uh… demons and they seek the ring." 

"That's it? There's nothing more? Obscure much?" 

"What's with the ring?" Oz wondered. 

Cordelia shook her head. "Hello, people! Who cares? Find the spell. Destroy the demons. Go home. It's a simple plan." Sometimes, they were so dense! 

"It's—" Giles hesitated. "It's an engagement ring." 

Even Oz smiled slightly at that bit of news. 

"It designates the Gaalian Queen," Giles continued. "It's not clear how she is chosen, but once the ring is placed on the finger of the chosen one it instantly beckons her subjects to her. Shortly thereafter, there is a mass die-off of demons and the Queen gives birth to the next generation." 

"What the hell does that mean?" Xander squeaked. 

"I think it means you shouldn't let them catch you," Oz said. 

"Fortunately," Giles continued, "the ritual can only be performed once. If it fails, it can't be repeated until the stars are realigned, which I gather is a few centuries from now." 

"And the demons?" Buffy prompted. 

"They have to wait for the next Queen before they can reproduce." 

"Getting even older and ickier in the mean time," Xander added. 

"Pity the next girl," Buffy said. 

"So what does Rachael get out of this deal?" Oz asked. 

"Aside from torturing me?" Alexander prompted. 

"There's something here about an ancient cult of witches," Giles said. "They would harvest the demons' organs for their magical powers." 

"Eye of newt, kidney of demon?" Buffy asked. 

"Something like that." 

"I don't think I've seen that spell," Willow mused. 

"Well," Buffy considered, "I can't say that I see anything wrong with a little demon harvesting. Agnathea and Rachael are cool on my list." 

"Hello?! Bait?!" the Xanders objected. 

Buffy attempted to look chastised. 

"I believe the main problem at hand is still ridding ourselves of the demons," Giles reminded them. 

Willow flipped through the pages. "Here's a… I think it says devil-devil." 

"Devil-devil?" Xander wondered. "Can I assume this does not involve chocolate baked goods?" 

"It's a spell," Giles explained. "Remember, Willow is translating. Other people speak differently. What's needed?" 

"The… um, ring bearer and ten demons." 

"Ten demons?" Alexander repeated. "Do we really need that many?" 

"Hey, Buff, up for some hunting?" Xander asked. 

Buffy's head shot up. Finally, action! "That's why I'm here." 

"Okay, ten demons are the minimum. If there's more, that's a-okay." 

"Bring 'em back?" 

"Uh, no. Find where they are staying and report their whereabouts. We'll go to them." 

"Will do." 

"Need any help, Buffy?" Xander eagerly asked. 

"Xander," Alexander sighed. "Slayer, superpowers, remember? You, mortal, easily killed. I don't wish to die young. Buffy doesn't need help in this." 

"Actually, I could use a ride." 

* * *

The video store clerk was just pinning her "Stacey Lee" name tag to her pink angora sweater when the demons trudged through the front door. She looked up with a bright smile that soon faltered. Sound eeked out as her lungs gathered air for a rising crescendo of noise. 

The demons fanned out, covering the comedy, sci-fi, action-adventure, and anime sections, disturbing patrons as they went with their vile appearance and odor. Three made their way back to the adult room where their presence went largely unnoticed. 

One of the creatures snuffled closer to Stacey Lee and, proving to be one of the most intelligent citizens of Sunnydale, she screamed bloody hell and ran for her life. 

* * *

Cordelia matched Oz's languid stride as she asked, "How's it go again?" 

Alexander tugged at Buffy's elbow, nudging her aside as Oz and Cordelia strolled past. 

"Buffy, I need to talk to you," Alexander said in hushed tones. "There's something really important that you need to know." 

"Maybe Giles is right," Buffy hesitated. "No harm in a little gossip, but the important stuff… maybe we shouldn't mess with that." 

"But—" 

"Giles says it's wrong," Buffy reminded herself, "Bad mojo." 

"And you started doing what Giles told you to do—when?" 

She tried not to smile, but didn't entirely succeed. "Look, if it's a matter of trusting Giles' advice or yours… He's my Watcher and you're, well, you're Xander." 

"So you won't listen to me because I was an idiot in high school, but you'll take advice from a man who spent his youth channeling demons for thrills?" 

Buffy frowned. "Good point. What exactly do I need to know?" 

"Don't trust Faith," Alexander said flatly. "I know you want to. I know you feel you have to. But you can't." 

"I don't think I want to hear this." 

"It's okay. No details. That's probably enough. I know you can handle it. I know you did handle it. I just—I wanted to prepare you. She's going to let you down." 

"I know Faith has a few hang ups, but—" 

"Just watch your back, okay?" 

"Okay." 

"And tell dead boy to pull that punch." 

"Huh?" 

"And one more thing." 

"What?" 

"You're doing a great job, Buffy," Alexander said with surprising sincerity. "We all took you for granted and didn't tell you often enough how much we appreciated what you do. I just wanted you to know." 

Buffy found herself staring at him. She hadn't noticed before, but the man cleaned up good. It was so hard to remember that this was Xander. Xander wasn't nearly this cute. Was he? 

Mistaking her scrutiny for suspicion, Alexander elaborated, "No, really, I think you're great. You hold off the evil and you're you." Opening the van door, he gestured Buffy in. 

Buffy smiled. "You're sweet, Alexander." 

"I try," Alexander replied. He watched Buffy's skirt ride up as she climbed into the van and a wistful expression washed over his face. "I don't suppose you can remember that in seventeen years?" 

Turning around to thank him, Buffy saw the slack-jawed look and the direction of his gaze. She focused a glare of disapproval on Alexander's inattentive face. "How about I just remember to slap you?" Buffy replied as she settled into her seat. 

* * *

"I thought the Chinese restaurant delivered," Willow said. 

"They always used to," Xander agreed, "but there's been a change in policy." 

"It seems that several delivery boys have vanished under mysterious circumstances," Giles added. 

"Aw, hell, I forgot this was before Giles got the minivan," Alexander sputtered as he squeezed his lanky frame into the back seat of the Citröen. 

"Minivan," Giles repeated in disgust. "I hardly think—" 

"Trust me. Minivan." 

"I dunno," Willow mused. "The Citröen kind of grows on you." 

"Glad you like it," Alexander said. "You'll be driving it to Ohio." 

"Ohio?" 

"In August." 

"August?" 

"Bring extra air fresheners for the trunk." 

"The trunk?" 

"And make Giles fix the air conditioning before hand." 

"Time paradox," Giles spat between gritted teeth. 

Willow and the Xanders shut up, but not without a few severe looks at Giles. The librarian could be such a spoilsport at times. 

"Look, if you don't like my rules or my car you could have gone with the others in the van." 

"No, thanks. That van has given me the creeps ever since—" 

Giles cleared his throat. 

The remainder of the ride to Mai Lin's House of the Blue Dragon was silent and uneventful. 

Xander sprang out of the car as soon as they pulled into the parking lot and bounded toward the restaurant. Reaching the door, he realized that no one else had even gotten out of the car yet and he sulkily turned back. 

"Hey, guys, c'mon," he prodded, leaning back in the car window. "Time's a wastin'." 

"I think I'll just wait here," Alexander said. "Mai Lin might recognize me. I don't think we're up for a lot of explanations right now." He cast a glance forward at Giles and added, "Time paradox, you know." 

"But your own mother didn't recognize you," Willow pointed out. 

"Mai Lin has a much higher probability of being sober." 

"True, and all the times I eat here," Xander added, "she's like a second mother to me anyway." 

"Oh, please don't say that," Alexander said. "I could be in therapy for years." 

"Really?" Xander chirped, a vacant smile already stealing across his face. 

An awkward silence filled the tiny car. 

"I think I'll just wait in the car with Alexander," Willow said quietly. 

Giles looked as if he might plead the same, but Xander wasn't letting him off the hook. 

"You, Mr. Credit Cards, are coming inside with me." 

"It's so nice to feel needed." 

Willow watched as Giles and Xander went inside. She had wondered why Xander always got extra fortune cookies. 

Looking across to her best friend's future form, and with Giles safely out of the way, she decided there was no reason not to ask the question that had been haunting her for years. "So." 

Alexander nodded. "So." 

"So—do you, like, ever get a clue?" 

A weary smiled tugged at the corner of Alexander's mouth. "June 13th, 2007, and I would appreciate it if, sometime before that date, you would learn to fry with non-stick cookware instead of cast iron." 

"I hit you that hard?" 

"I was in a coma for a week." 

"But, you recovered," Willow pointed out, "and that's the important thing." 

"You're not switching to non-stick are you?" 

"It's just that cast iron cooks so much more evenly." The little redhead looked at Alexander with that special Willow smile that always left him feeling vaguely confused. 

"Now I have a question for you," Alexander said. 

"Okay." 

"I can understand the orthodontist, but why dead boy?" 

"What? Who?" Willow stuttered. This was news to her. Willow tried to gather her thoughts, but Alexander's question had scattered them willy-nilly. All she could do was open and close her mouth as she stared at Alexander who suddenly became fascinated by the view outside his window. 

* * *

Oz and Cordelia sat in his van, parked in an alley not far from The Bronze. 

"O, z, n, o, w, i, c, z?" 

Oz nodded, but avoided her questioning gaze. 

Cordelia was pleased that she had finally mastered the one piece of advice that Alexander had given her for her future, but was still frustrated with his lack of details. 

"Do you think it'll be a question on a quiz show or something?" Cordelia mused. "Or a radio call-in contest? The first person to spell Oznowicz correctly wins $10,000?" 

"I think you're being too literal," Oz said, absently flicking on the windshield washer as Buffy slammed a demon up against the front of the van. 

"I can't believe Alexander didn't come with us," Cordelia whined, for what Oz counted as the eighth time in twelve minutes. "I thought he was going to come with us. How could he walk us to the van and not come with us? It's false advertising or something. There are laws against that." 

Oz just stared straight ahead as the windshield wipers fought a losing battle with demon mucus. It was mesmerizing in a sick way. 

"And what good is he going to do back at the library with Willow and Xander? I don't care what he says. Arabic-shmarabic. The man never read a book that didn't have pictures in his life." 

* * *

Willow fought in vain with her chopsticks. Darn it, everyone else seemed to be using theirs with ease. She hated to be the only one to ask for a fork so she tried again to bring a piece of sweet and sour chicken to her mouth using the traditional utensils. 

The hunk of chicken flew across the table and bounced off of Giles' cheek. 

Willow smiled wanly as he looked up at her. 

"Willow," the librarian asked calmly. "Would you like a fork?" 

"Yes, please." 

"It's okay, Will," Alexander said. "It just takes practice." 

"Like magic," Willow agreed. 

"Right." 

"Oh, that's an idea." Eschewing utensils altogether Willow stared intently at her carton. Slowly, but steadily two pieces of chicken and a hunk of pineapple floated into the air. "Just like the astronauts," Willow beamed, snapping up her meal Pac-Man style. 

"Oh, now that's just cool," the Xanders agreed. 

Alexander stopped chewing and laid his chopsticks carefully onto the table. His knee was calling out for some attention. The throbbing was beyond painful. It felt as if it had been pulled inside out and crammed back into his leg. "Oh-oh." 

Xander, around a mouthful of Mongolian Beef, uttered, "What?" 

"Demons!" 

Suddenly, the library doors slammed open. Twenty-seven demons, not that anyone was counting, appeared. Liquid oozed out of broken boils and the demons' ever-present smell sloughed through the library. A hunk of pineapple hit Xander in the face as Willow lost all focus. 

The demons attacked. They had found the One, although, oddly, the One seemed to be the Two at the moment. Demons were never very good at math anyway so they didn't waste any time trying to work it out. 

Shoving Willow to a defendable position behind them, Giles lunged for a mace (which he just happened to keep lying around), Alexander grabbed a chair, and Xander went on the attack by flinging a carton full of shredded pork with garlic sauce at the nearest demon. The demon continued at them undaunted. Damn it, that worked on She-Wolf of London, Xander thought to himself. Maybe it's only vampires. Have to try it on Angel sometime. 

Cordelia and Oz strolled in unaware of the fracas in progress. Cordelia was prattling on about something and Oz would nod whenever she took a breath. "Oh, yuck, not more of them." 

Buffy walked in behind them. Sidetracked by the goo on her skirt, Buffy said, "Sorry, Giles, but I didn't find more than a handful of demons…" The nauseating smell made Buffy stop in her tracks. "…because, apparently, they're all in here playing how many demons can you fit in one library." 

Buffy leapt instantly into the fray. She landed lightly in the middle of the demon squad and staked three before they had a chance to react. A fourth demon rushed her while the other demons concentrated on the various human prey in the room. 

"Remember, we need ten!" Giles called out. He was busily collecting the supplies he would need for the spell. A demon flew through the air landing heavily, and oozily, against one of the bookshelves. Giles moaned in dismay, visions of stained books slithering through his imagination. 

Alexander dragged Willow up the stairs to the stacks. It was marginally safer up here than down there. Spotting a demon meandering towards the oblivious librarian, Alexander left Willow behind a bookshelf. He vaulted towards Giles with a flying kick aimed at the approaching fiend. The demon just grunted in annoyance. Alexander collapsed onto the floor, writhing in pain. 

Giles grabbed the fool and propelled him towards the safety of the office. A demon was breathing down his neck and Giles slammed the office door shut. Slumping against the flimsy barricade, Giles said, "We should help Buffy." 

"Nah. She can fend for herself. Anyway, this will do her good," Alexander gasped through clenched teeth. 

Giles kept an eye on the brawl in the library as he set up the crystals and incense. "Where's Willow?" 

"Stacks," Alexander reported. Pain contorted his face as he clutched his knee, praying for relief. 

Without preamble, Giles took a pair of scissors and cut free a hunk of Alexander's hair. 

"Hey?!" 

"It will grow back," Giles muttered, as he added the hair to his cache of items. 

* * *

Buffy slammed a demon onto a chair in the hopes that a piece of wood would pierce the heart. Finally ridding herself of the latest opponent, Buffy leapt onto the nearest demon. 

Oz moved away from an approaching demon, a cross his only protection. The demon simply bared its teeth and licked its lips. Well, there were fleshy protuberances around the mouth; so, they must be lips. 

Cordelia shrieked in anger and pushed Oz out of the way. She could not believe that these demons had the horrible manners to return. Last night's clothes had been burned because there was no way to repair the damage. "Those clothes were from Italy! Specially made for me!" she screamed at the nearest demon. 

Oz stumbled but regained his balance. Unfortunately, a demon landed on top of him. Oz struggled from beneath the demon. His oxygen intake was getting kind of low. Neither Xander nor Cordelia were paying attention to his plight. 

Grunting, Oz twisted and shot out from his captor. The ooze dripping from the demon was certainly a handy lubricant. Oz scrambled to his feet and noticed that he was in demon central. 

Since Buffy was occupied, Oz decided it would be best if he found a safe place to wait. The library cage was unoccupied and he dove towards the open gate. Slamming it closed behind him, Oz wired the door shut. 

* * *

Xander rolled his eyes from beneath the library table. That was just so Cordelia. The body flying through the air caught Xander's attention. It was Buffy and she had been slammed into the wall. 

A demon reared in front of Xander. Grabbing a broken chair leg off the floor, Xander hefted the wooden implement like a bat. The club struck the demon across the ankles; the sickening sound of flesh giving way joined the cacophony. The demon thudded into the floor. Not stopping to ascertain the damage, Xander scrambled from beneath the table towards Buffy. 

* * *

Watching the battle outside, Giles winced. 

Alarmed, Alexander ignored the pain in his knee. "What? What's going on?" 

"The Gaalians are surrounding Cordelia," Giles said quietly. 

Alexander uttered a soft "Damn" and pulled himself up. Clutching the furniture around him for support, he limped out of the office. 

Giles called after him, but quickly slammed the door when three demons attempted to enter. Barricading the door with his desk, Giles hoped the others had enough sense to run away. 

* * *

Alexander shook his head in disbelief. Xander had left Cordelia standing there without protection! Buffy was the Slayer; she could take care of herself. Cordelia was mortal and needed all the help she could get. 

Alexander kicked at a demon in his way. His blow skidded off the demon's torso and inflamed his stricken knee. The demon glared. Alexander felt his feet leave the ground and then he was flying. Cordelia became tangled into his pin-wheeling arms. The two of them crashed out of the library and fell into a heap in the hall outside the doors. 

A quick impression of softness and warmth struck Alexander's brain. Ignoring his hormones, Alexander pulled Cordelia to her feet. With her hand firmly in his, Alexander hobbled down the hallway to the nearest closet. "Here, we'll be safe." 

Two arms snaked around his front and Alexander looked behind him in surprise. Cordelia had pressed herself into him for comfort. 

Turning around in her arms, Alexander gathered her closer. One hand stroked Cordelia's back in a soothing gesture while they rocked back and forth slowly. Alexander could feel the small heaves wracking Cordelia's body and the cold wetness on her face. 

Fear and the joy of being alive battled within her body. Her hands crept up Alexander's face. Their sharp pants harshly sounded in the small space. Cordelia moved her face closer to Alexander. The soft gentle suction of their lips blocked out their fright. 

* * *

In the stacks, Willow peeked at the carnage below. She knew she had to do something. Silently, Willow begged for Giles' forgiveness and slid books off the shelves. Willow crawled toward the banister with her pile. Eyeing a nearby demon, Willow aimed a book. A squishy sound was heard when impact was made. Instead of knocking the demon out, the book stuck out of its head. "Oh-oh." 

Willow gave up all pretense of hiding and ran deep into the stacks. Buffy couldn't help her. She was too busy lying on the floor with Xander defending her. Wait a minute, Xander was defending Buffy? Why wasn't he defending her? Willow? His best friend and secret something? Giles was trapped in his office and Alexander had left with Cordelia. That left her, Willow Rosenberg, all alone. 

The book-headed demon was also deeply pissed now. 

Willow turned and ran—and immediately slammed into something hard, someone hard. Something had her in its grasp! Oh, please, oh, please, don't let it be another demon! 

"Willow? What's going on? Where's Buffy?" 

Okay, it was a demon, but it was a nice demon. "Angel! We have to go. Now. Time to go out." 

Willow forced Angel further into the stacks. Angel wasn't certain what was going on, but he'd let Willow lead. He could hear the blood rush through her heart at a furious rate. Fear exuded from her body. Angel would make certain Willow was safe and then come back for Buffy. 

"Where's the exit? We have to find the exit! You'd think there'd be a sign. I thought that was the law!" Willow babbled. The serenity she had desperately cultivated was giving way to out-right panic. Angel would save her. Right?! 

A gentle tug toward the left caused Willow to knock into a bookshelf. "Ow!" 

"Sorry. It's this way." 

Angel guided her to a door secreted into the wall. He let go of Willow and pushed the door open. Beckoning her outside, Angel waited patiently. 

Only after Willow stumbled blindly out into the night air with a grumpy demon hot on her tail did Angel begin to grasp the situation. Angel snapped its neck in an instant and then turned to Willow for explanations. "What's going on?" 

"Buffy's in trouble! And Cordelia and Giles and Xander, both of him, and, oh! Oz!" 

Perplexed, Angel echoed, "Both of him?" 

Willow nodded and returned to her frantic dash toward the front of the high school. Once again, she stopped and looked behind her. "Angel! Hurry!" 

"Both of him?" Angel repeated. He hadn't budged an inch from his previous spot. 

Sighing, Willow ran back and grabbed Angel's hand. Really, this wasn't the time to ponder. Explanations could come later. She dragged him towards the high school's front doors. "If we go in the front we can surprise them from behind!" 

"Wouldn't we go in the back to surprise them from behind?" Angel wondered. 

"No! If we go in the back, we'll surprise them from the front which wouldn't be surprising them." 

Releasing his hand, Willow futilely pulled on the door handles. 

"Great. The one night they lock them," Willow muttered. 

Angel gently pushed Willow out of the way and wrenched the doors open. Willow nodded her thanks before she ran into the dark interior. Closely behind her, Angel rushed down the corridor towards the library. Buffy needed him. They all needed him. 

* * *

After successfully barricading himself, Giles returned to his spellcasting. He flipped through _Danziger's Metaphysical Index_ to the proper invocation. Waving the lock of Alexander's hair over the incense, Giles chanted the words. 

The library doors slammed open and the wind made itself at home. Pages were ripped out of books and chairs flew. Bookcases toppled onto the banister then came crashing down onto the floor. Splinters of wood whirled in the air. 

Buffy struggled to sit up and saw Xander get whacked in the head. He fell heavily onto the floor. Buffy rolled toward the nearest demon. Before it knew what was happening, the demon was out for the count—permanently. Preparing herself, Buffy grabbed the chair leg loosely clutched in Xander's prone hand. 

The chant ended and Giles moved his desk out of the way. He had done all he could. Now he had to help his charge. Once out of his office, Giles stopped. He couldn't help himself. His pristine library was falling into ruin. Nothing could be done to save his library. He'd have to write a report to Snyder or clean up as best as he could. The latter choice sounded much better. 

The demons burst into flame. Pain-filled screams echoed throughout the library as the demons futilely batted at their burning flesh. The boils sizzled and popped in glee as, one by one, the demons were reduced to grease smears upon the floor. 

Buffy looked at Giles and Giles looked at Buffy. 

"That was fun. Can we do it again?" 

A frown reprimanded Buffy's flippant remark. 

Silently, Oz stood beside Buffy. She turned to him with a questioning look. Oz glanced over to the cage in reply. Satisfied, Buffy reestablished her conversation with Giles. 

"So, we rid of the Gall Bladders?" Buffy asked. 

"The Gaalians, Buffy." 

"Right. Them." 

He nodded. "The others of their kind will not seek the One until a new vessel has been chosen. With this spell, Alexander's ring has been drained of all its power. It is now simply a piece of jewelry." 

"Very ugly jewelry," Buffy added. 

"Well, that's it, then." 

"That's what then?" Xander repeated groggily. "What the hell happened? Did we get hit by another vamp attack?" 

Buffy and Giles looked at him and then at each other. 

"We're going to have to get him a helmet at this rate, aren't we?" 

Giles grunted in agreement. Helping Xander to his feet, Giles surreptitiously removed the folded paper from his pocket. "Mr. Harris, what does the word 'Azaria' mean to you?" 

"The guy who does Apu on _The Simpsons_?" 

Giles smiled. Once again, all was right with the world. 

With a bang, the library doors flew open again and they all flinched. Willow and Angel came skidding into the room, ready for battle. 

"Die, demon scum!" Willow screamed, waving a fire ax. 

Seeing no demons to fight, Angel turned to Buffy. "Hi." 

"We're here to save you," Willow said with a smile and a little shrug. "I guess we missed our cue." 

"My hero," Oz responded with a smile. 

* * *

Alexander was probing Cordelia's mouth when a noise interrupted his pleasant exploration. 

"Have you tried the closet?" Buffy's muffled voice asked someone. 

The door creaked open ever so slightly, letting in a crack of light and one eyeball. 

"Found 'em!" Oz announced. 

"I told you they'd be in the closet," Buffy said. 

"Yes, well," Giles sputtered. 

"Cordelia!" Willow gasped. 

"Well, he is my boyfriend," Cordelia pointed out. "We have done this before." 

"I'm confused," Angel announced. 

"Don't strain yourself, dead boy." 

Giles cleared his throat. "We're just here to tell you that you've been rescued. The demons are gone. Your ring is now perfectly safe. So you may return home at any time." 

"Also," Buffy said, "we need to take Xander to the hospital. He has a concussion." 

"Again," Willow added. 

Alexander pulled away from Cordelia despite her protests. Home was very near and he didn't realize until now how much he wanted to get back there. Alexander smiled and said, "Goodbye, Cordy. See you in seventeen years." 

With that, he flipped his copy of _Azaria_ out of his back pocket, read its incantation—and Alexander LaVelle Harris disappeared into the vortex that formed behind him. 

Cordelia stood there stunned. "That was anti-climatic." 

* * *

The Sunnydale Public Library was abuzz with children. Behind the Adult Reference Desk, the senior librarian was debating whether the noise level had reached the point that warranted a reprimand. Ultimately, she decided it wasn't worth the effort. Slipping off her shoes, she stretched and sighed. The library used to be such a quiet place before Celtic Fertility Goddess worship had come into fashion. 

"Do you _really_ think that that is appropriate reading material, _Miss_ Summers?" Mrs. Harmony Fortensky snorted, glaring distastefully at the book in the librarian's hand. 

Mrs. Fortensky always went out of her way to emphasize the _Miss_. It wasn't as though Buffy was the only unmarried woman in Sunnydale, if nothing else the divorce rate was quite high. She was, however, just about the only childless woman left in Sunnydale. She also officially held spinster librarian status and Mrs. Fortensky liked to rub her nose in it. In truth, Buffy was more than happy to have been visiting friends in Ohio that weekend. 

Buffy gave a quick glance at the cover of the offending book. She had to admit that the cover art was pretty cheesy, not to mention misleading—she had yet to discover a single character with rippling abs like that. 

"It's historical," Buffy offered lamely. 

"It's obscene," Mrs. Fortensky insisted. 

Buffy glanced wistfully at the remaining unread pages. "I can hope," she muttered. 

"Excuse me? There happen to be children present. What if they see you reading that, that, that smut?" 

" _Historical_ smut," Buffy corrected with a smile. 

Mrs. Fortensky huffed. 

"This is the Adult Reference Desk, Mrs. Fortensky. The Junior Section is over there." 

"Books like that shouldn't be allowed in a library." 

"Sorry, that's just the way it is. Library, place of books. If you'd like to make a suggestion at the next board meeting, maybe you could convince them to cover all the non-Dr. Seuss books in plain brown wrappers." 

Mrs. Fortensky nodded curtly and stalked away. 

Oh, God damn it, Buffy cursed silently. With a resigned sigh, she made a mental note to ask the business secretary to requisition lots of clear tape and brown paper. 

Mrs. Fortensky headed for the Junior Section (that is, to say, the main section) and proceeded to make the Youth Librarians' lives miserable. Buffy had the deepest sympathy for them, but she was feeling petulantly selfish today and refused to help. The Adult Reference Desk was where she was assigned and the Adult Reference Desk, neglected though it may be, was where she intended to stay. It was her birthday, damn it, and she had a date with sea-shanty singin' Welshmen (who better flash some bare abs soon or she was going to get cranky). 

She couldn't even sulk about no one remembering her birthday because Willow Diefenbaker had sent a card and a little teddy bear. Her parents had even invited her to dinner. She'd refused, of course. It seemed like there were more kids at their place than the library. The last time she'd had dinner with them, Jenny had hidden all her lima beans in Buffy's mashed potatoes. So, she'd claimed she already had a dinner date which sent them into inquisition mode. Pressed for details, she'd blurted something incoherent about a Welsh sailor. Her stepfather went tail spinning into a rant about mysterious strangers (or maybe he just had a thing against the Welsh) and Buffy ended up egging him on with more elaborate details. After all these years, he was still cute to watch when he slipped into protective Daddy mode. 

Buffy hummed "What do you do with a drunken sailor?" while she concentrated on the prose before her. Captain Beefcake was starting to get sweaty and the narrative was just hinting that he might possibly have to remove that shirt soon when a loud noise brought Buffy back to the here and now. She might have ignored it. It was barely louder than the sound of Sarah, one of the Youth Librarians, chasing little Johnnie Snyder around the magazine racks. The sound might have gone totally unnoticed except—the hair on the back of Buffy's neck stood on end and she realized that she _knew_ that sound. 

Looking for it, she spotted the vortex forming in the air above the sci-fi paperbacks. "Everybody out!" she announced. "The library is closed! You all have to leave!" 

She shouted down the confused protests with "Fire drill! Out!" and the fact that she was now waving around a large wooden stake didn't encourage further argument. Sarah decided that Buffy was just having a senior librarian moment and ushered everyone out. In seconds, the library was empty, just Buffy and the vortex. 

Damn it, what had Xander said? It was so many years ago and didn't seem important at the time. Something about children. Oh, crap, that moron hadn't lead the demons _here_ had he? 

She was braced for the worst when Alexander Harris dropped onto the ground at her feet. She anxiously watched the vortex until it vanished demon-less. 

Blearily, Alexander raised his head and stared at her legs. "I know those legs," he announced, apparently addressing the limbs themselves. "Only one person has those legs." Rising to his full height, Alexander sent her a killer smile. "Buffy! God, it's great to be home! Give me a great big hug!" 

A slap knocked him straight back to the floor. 

"Ow!" 

"I told you I'd remember to slap you," Buffy growled softly. 

"You didn't change anything, did you? I still have the damn demon knee. Damn it, Buffy!" 

Buffy shrugged. 

"At least tell me that I'm a successful billionaire!" 

"Sorry." 

"Fine. Here." Taking the ring from his pocket, he flung it at her. "Happy birthday!" he spat. "I would have wrapped it, but I've been kind of busy." 

"Oh." Buffy snatched the ugly bit of jewelry out of the air and stared at it. It was even more hideous than she'd remembered but, knowing the effort involved, the gesture nearly brought a tear to her eye. "Um… thank you." 

Alexander continued to sit on the floor in full sulk mode. 

"Xander?" she said gently. He looked up despite himself. "Xander, really, I mean it. Thank you. It's…" She choked on the word "lovely" and he finished the sentence for her. 

"Hideous?" 

"Well, yes. But it was very sweet of you to remember my birthday." She reached down and helped him back to his feet. "Look, I was planning to go the Blue Dragon after the library closed and, well," Buffy scanned the empty library, "the library would appear to be closed. Care to join me?" 

"Dinner sounds great, but—can we _not_ go to the Blue Dragon? It's bad enough I have to work there." 

"You're not still upset about the new waiter?" 

"Buffy, he's younger than _me_." 

"Mai Lin likes 'em young. We established that years ago. Besides," she added, wiping Cordelia's lipstick off the corner of his mouth. "You aren't one to talk. Accosting underage girls in closets; you ought to be ashamed." 

"It was Cor. She jumped me." 

"Uh-huh." 

"How about take out?" 

"Sounds good," Buffy agreed, heading back to the Adult Reference Desk in search of her shoes. "Where do we take it? The park?" 

"Too noisy. Your place?" 

Buffy stopped with her jacket half-on. "Am I going to have to slap you again?" 

"Well, it's just that my apartment still has a gaping hole in the roof and your folks' place…" 

"I know. Finger paint everywhere. I already nixed that one." 

"Actually finger paint has possibilities," Alexander mused, holding the door open while Buffy struggled with her jacket. 

"I _am_ going to have to slap you again." 

Alexander scooped Buffy into a hug and whirled her around. A smile blossomed on his face as he looked into her eyes. "It's good to be home." 

"Xander?" 

"Buffy?" 

"You have to put me down so I can lock the door." 

* * *

A clear blue sky graced Sunnydale. The sun shone with warmth and light on the students milling around in the breezeways of the high school. Buffy and Willow sat waiting in the courtyard. It was lunchtime and the rest of the gang would show in a few moments. Their attention was caught by a tall lanky figure weaving his way through the maze of bodies. 

Willow shook her head in wonder. "He doesn't remember anything?" 

"Not a thing. Giles isn't sure if it's just the whack to the head or if it's the forces of time preserving themselves from his dreaded time paradox or what. But end result," Buffy smirked, "the boy is clueless—as always." 

"He's not suspicious about losing a day?" Willow marveled. 

"He never even noticed," Buffy explained. "Cordelia took him shoe shopping Sunday. They were only gone two hours, but he's pretty convinced it was an entire weekend." 

"I can see that," Willow agreed. With a sigh, she added, "Gosh, I wish I'd asked him more while he was here" 

Buffy glanced over at Willow. "So, have you decided about the pans?" 

"Oh, non-stick. Definitely non-stick…" 

As they watched, Xander bumped into a nearby cheerleader, Stacey Lee Whitton, Miss Honey Sunshine 1998. They couldn't help but notice that he was none-too-swift in ceasing their physical contact. 

"…probably." 

**Author's Note:**

> Co-written by the lovely **Tressa Sunshine** who does not have an AO3 account but has given me permission to post this here and I will pass on any comments or kudos to her.


End file.
